


darling, only you can ease my mind

by ginger__snapped



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Little bit of PTSD, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23205058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger__snapped/pseuds/ginger__snapped
Summary: Baz worries about Simon. A lot. He doesn't eat much, doesn't move, and pushes everyone away. All Baz wants to do is help.Simon hates himself. He's full of self-loathing, and the demons in his head won't leave him alone. All Simon wants is to feel okay. It just takes a little bit to realize that.orSimon is hella sad and Baz is the best boyfriend
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	darling, only you can ease my mind

**Author's Note:**

> title from "ease my mind" by ben platt  
> //darling, only you can ease my mind  
> help me leave these lonely thoughts behind  
> when they pull me under, and i can feel my sanity start to unwind  
> darling, only you can ease my mind//
> 
> chapter title from "demons" by hayley kiyoko  
> //It's creeping in, it's gonna get me by the end of the night  
> I'm sinking deeper, still, I'm reaching for the end of the light  
> Burning in the lava  
> You can't go and pray this type of pain away//

**Baz**

He doesn’t do much moving anymore. He used to be so restless, a constant source of energy. A bouncing leg, a tapping finger, a wand spinning between his fingers. Now, he can barely find the energy to roll off the couch and shower. 

Penny’s worried out of her mind about him. ‘Course, so am I, but she’s much more...expressive. 

He’s been so quiet and pitiful. It physically pains me to see him like this. And I only discovered just yesterday that he stopped taking his meds. Months ago. I feel like a shit boyfriend. I usually feel like a shit boyfriend, anyway. I love him so much it  _ hurts _ . And I try, I really do, to help him. And I know he acknowledges it, but...nothing changes. And that’s why I feel so bad. If I’m supposed to be there for him and help him, why hasn’t anything improved?

I asked Penny about it. She laughed gently, and told me that it was all up to Simon. “You’re doing a wonderful job, Baz. I’d be afraid to think about where he’d be if it weren’t for you. Really, I think you’re the last thing tethering him to reality.” 

I take in a deep breath and try to focus back on what the professor is saying. 

I can focus on Simon tonight, and work on helping him. I did a bit of reading on depression and anxiety when Simon first started the meds, but after one article, I stopped that, the thought of Simon dealing with that making me sick. But last night, while he was passed out, head in my lap and body curled impossibly tight, I read up on what I could do to help. 

I sigh. 

All I want to do is help him, really. 

**Simon**

Baz tells me that he loves me every day. Sometimes he says things like “I’m proud of you,” or “You’re fantastic, Simon Snow.” 

He’s so supportive. Genuinely the best boyfriend ever. 

But, I mean, I don’t really believe him. I know he cares, I know he loves me, but I don’t, like,  _ know _ it. There’s a difference between knowing something and understanding it. Like, I know the Earth goes around the Sun, but I have no bloody idea  _ why _ . Some useful education Watford was. But anyway, I know he has to love me, otherwise he’d have kicked me out of his apartment weeks ago. I’ve been here for a solid three months -- I went through this crazy episode because I forgot to refill my meds and just... stopped. Stopped taking the medication, stopped seeing my therapist, just...put everything on hold. I came to Baz’s with a rucksack and the desperate need for someone to hold me, and I’ve been camped out on his couch ever since. Penny let me stay. 

I don’t blame here, honestly. I’d get tired of having a lug like me just moping around. I’m pretty much useless, anyhow. 

I shift and roll over, bringing the pillow over my head to block the sun. Baz always leaves the windows open to leave me with fresh air. Bloody bastard. ‘Course, I could get up and close them. I did, once, and the look on his face, a mix of pride and sadness, was enough for me to resolve to never do it again, partly out of pettiness and partly just because I can’t. 

I sigh, gritting my teeth and closing my eyes. It’s nearing four in the afternoon, the time when Baz usually comes back. By this time, I absolutely despise myself. I’ve had a good eleven hours or so to wallow in self pity, for my brain to pick out every thing I’ve done wrong, for that nagging voice in the back of my head to tell me that I’m worthless and that I’m just holding everyone back. 

My therapist’s voice floats through my mind sometimes, but the demons are faster, and they instantly shut that up. This is what the meds were supposed to stop. They did, when I was using them. I almost wish I was still on them. Or that I was still seeing my therapist. 

But it’s easier to just...let yourself drown than fight to get out. 

There is one thing that my therapist said that even the demons can’t get to. It hit me hard when she said it, and it haunts me, looms over my head, a biting blade in the dark haze of my depression. 

_ “You have to want to get better, Simon. Nothing’s going to change if you resist help.”  _

It’s such a true statement. I try not to think about it, because, really, that’s my problem. I’d rather sit here in misery than try to get better. I push and shove and test bonds until they break, isolating myself and lashing out at the people who care about me. I push them away to ease the eventual heartbreak of when they leave. They always do, in the end. But misery loves company, and I can’t help but feel a little bit of jealousy. I don’t  _ want  _ to, I just...they’re so happy. Going to college, working jobs, comfortable with themselves, just able to exist. 

_ You could be like that too, if you weren’t a coward.  _

I wince. 

The door opens, but I make no move to acknowledge the fact. I just assume that it’s Baz, and he already knows I’m a hopeless case, so. 

It is Baz. He rips the pillow out of my grasp, and I’m left blankly blinking up at him, the sunlight coming in from the window illuminating his hair. 

“Go shower, Simon.” I try to look as pitiful as possible. It doesn’t work. Dammit. “Simon, love, please go shower.” 

I really can’t say no to him. On top of everything else, my list of people I have a crippling fear of disappointing now includes Baz. So I shower. It takes longer than I meant it to -- it always happens. I zone out, just letting the scalding water hit my back and let my mind be empty. I halfheartedly wash my hair, but when I get out, I do feel a million times better. Physically, at least. I pull on a pair of sweats and Baz’s old Watford hoodie, taking in a deep breath. I already feel calmer, somehow. Baz calms me in a way I never imagined someone could. 

He’s waiting in the kitchen when I come out, dressed impeccably as always -- black pants and a button up with swirling blues. He doesn’t mention the fact that I spent far longer than any sane person should spend in the shower, and I love him for it. He never does mention the little things I do; doesn’t force me to be happy, just encourages me. He doesn’t reprimand me for fucking things up, he just reassures me that it’s okay, and moves on. Of course, I don’t move on from it, and then the irrational thoughts start spiraling, and-

Baz places his hand on my arm. I take in a deep breath. 

His hand trails down until mine is firmly clasped in his, and he gently tugs me out the door, into the light of the world. It’s not as bright as it was earlier. I still put on my sunglasses. 

I feel a bit lighter with every step we take. Baz’s hand is solid, a reminder that he’s here, and I’m right here with him. The demons in my head start to recede back, scared of the light. 

Maybe I should do this more often. 

Baz doesn’t initiate any conversations. He just walks, one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around mine. It’s nice, really. There are birds out, and the soft chatter of the city. College kids are spread in the park, but the reminder that I should be like them isn’t so painful anymore. 

“Maybe I’ll sign up for some courses next year,” I say. Baz smiles softly. 

“That’s a plan,” he says, and I nod. 

He brings us to the cafe he works at, and we sit at the couch in the back. It’s where we always sit -- it’s also where I used to come at the beginning of the school year, when I was on my meds and Baz worked in the afternoons. After I crashed at his place, he took up the morning shift so that he could go to work while I was still sleeping and come back earlier, before I spiraled too far into the pit of self-destruction. 

I don’t dwell on that fact. I force myself to focus on the present, on Baz’s hand still wrapped around mine, on the small rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes, on the smell of chocolate and coffee that permeates the air. 

“I love you,” Baz whispers, running his thumb over my knuckles. 

“I love you too.”

Baz’s old coworker Amy brings us two caramel macchiatos and chocolate croissants, smiling at us. I thank her, and I can almost feel the happiness radiating off of Baz. Maybe trying is worth it, if it makes Baz happier. 

We sit there, drinking our coffee, until the last dredges disappear with the sun, and Baz pays before we start walking back to his apartment. I feel better than I have in...months, really. I feel closer to how I did before I stopped than I have before. 

I know, logically, it won’t last, that the demons will creep out of the shadows to haunt me again, but, for now, as we walk back through the quiet park, I feel content. 

It hits me, right then and there, that I  _ want  _ this. I want this...domesticity, this calmness and happiness that comes with just existing. I want to see the beauty of the world and consider myself a part of it, to make coffee dates a regular thing, to ease away some of the exhaustion hidden away behind both my eyes and Baz’s. 

I smile, genuinely, and stop abruptly. Baz looks back at me, concern written on his features, but they melt away into confusion before I pull him close and kiss him. 

Because I’m allowed things like this. I’m allowed to kiss my boyfriend and be happy in public. I’m allowed to be happy, I realize. 

Baz freezes for a moment, but then he relaxes, and we’re both grinning like idiots through the kiss. I pull away, covering my mouth to try and hide how widely I’m smiling. The last rays of sunlight and the first beams of moonlight mix together to paint Baz’s face in soft lighting, and he looks so fucking pretty, and I want to cry from how much I love him. I settle for wrapping my 

arms around him as tightly as I can, burying my face in the crook of his neck. 

“Thank you,” I whisper. 

He doesn’t need to respond. He just squeezes me tighter, and as we stand there in the moonlight, I make a vow to myself that I’m going to try. If it’s for anyone, it’s for Baz. Because he deserves the world for all he’s done for me.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, yall!!!  
> let me know if you think i should continue this or let it be a standalone fic!  
> love you! <3  
> ps come yell at me on [tumblr](https://ginger--snapped.tumblr.com/)


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